Halfway Across the Gap
by The Darkness Factor
Summary: In which Logan returns to the Institute with Yukio in tow. Post-Wolverine.
1. Part One

**Disclaimer: **I don't own X-Men. If I did, well... I'd have no idea what to do with all them characters.

* * *

**Halfway Across the Gap**

**Part One**

Yukio had heard a lot about Xavier's Institute, particularly from the notes that she was given on her assignment. Still, it was one thing to read about the school and another to stand in front of its doors. Suddenly, the mansion appeared to be much more formidable than she'd originally believed. She pushed her dyed hair over her shoulder, tugged her coat around her further, and rang the buzzer.

She expected there to be some sort of intercom, and was therefore surprised when the door opened to reveal a brown haired girl blinking at her.

"Um... hi," the girl said.

"Greetings," replied Yukio, bowing her head. "I am looking for a man by the name of James Howlett. I was told that he might be here."

The girl's brow furrowed. "I can't say I know anyone by that name. Do you have a picture, or…?"

"I believe he is also known as 'the Wolverine'."

To her surprise, a reluctant look appeared on the girl's face. She suddenly appeared very tired, as though Yukio's question had drained all of the life from her. The silence stretched out between them, and she was beginning to regret coming to the Institute at all when the girl at last spoke.

"He's not here."

"_Kuso,_" Yukio mumbled to herself. Yet another dead end. "My apologies for intruding. Thank you for your help."

She turned away, preparing to head back to the car. The Wolverine was proving to be very elusive. Everyone could eventually be found, no matter how hard they tried to hide, but she was so sure she would find him here. Nearly all of the photographs of him in modern times showed him standing among the X-Men, fighting beside them. She hadn't looked at Xavier's before because she hadn't known that it was even a school for mutants. All official records painted it as a simple prep school.

"Wait!"

The girl's voice made her pause. She looked back at her; the girl was biting her lip, indecision on her face. "You might as well come in. He's not here, but if you're not planning on hurting him… Professor Munroe might be able to help you."

Cautiously, Yukio stepped over the threshold. She'd spent enough time in America to get used to the architecture, but this kind of opulence differed greatly from what she was used to. Dark, hardwood floors, paneled walls, expensive rugs and other furniture… certainly, she had grown up in one of Japan's richest families, but even theirs was a simple lifestyle.

_This is a school?_

"It's a Saturday," the girl explained, "so most of the kids are in town ice skating. Well, those that are experienced enough to control their powers. I'm on watch, so that means I'm the doorman as well— or doorwoman, if you prefer."

She held out a hand. "Kitty Pryde. You're from Asia, right?"

"_Hai,"_ answered Yukio, still distracted by the interior of the mansion. "I mean— yes, I am. Japan, specifically. It's very nice to meet you, Miss Pryde. My name is Yukio."

"Just Kitty's fine," said Kitty, smiling a bit. "Miss Pryde makes me feel like a schoolteacher or something. Although, that's probably because I am a schoolteacher… anyway, Professor Munroe's office is just up here."

Yukio looked at the girl in surprise. She couldn't have been more than twenty— maybe even eighteen. "You teach here?"

"Yeah. Surprising, isn't it?" Kitty laughed. "We… lost a large part of the staff recently, so some of us had to step it up. Professor Munroe wouldn't have let us, but we insisted, and by 'insisted' I mean we cornered her and argued why she should let us help teach until she gave in. She works way too hard."

They approached a door in the middle of the long hallway, which Kitty then knocked on. "Professor?" she called.

"Yes, Kitty?"

"We have a visitor." Kitty bit her lip, looking nervous, before adding, "She asked about Logan."

There was a long pause, similar to the one before, that made Yukio want to squirm again. It made her wonder what the Wolverine had done here that made these people go quiet whenever he was mentioned. Shingen had always praised him for his bravery and kindheartedness, but judging by the way that the staff of the Institute acted, he was anything but. Yukio began to wonder if he was really worthy of the sword that she wore on her back.

"Have her come in."

Yukio placed her hand on the doorknob, but before she entered she bowed her head to Kitty again.

"Thank you."

"No problem," said Kitty. "Good luck."

Yukio went inside. She hadn't been a child for years— not since she first saw the death of her parents— but she felt like one as she entered the office. The woman who sat behind a large desk was regarding her with an intense gaze. It was as though she already knew everything about Yukio's mission, even though Yukio knew that it wasn't possible. Or maybe it was; maybe the woman was a telepath. Her unique look did nothing to dispel Yukio's sudden bout of nerves. How many African women had white hair?

"Hello," Professor Munroe said. "No need to look so nervous, we don't bite. I'm Ororo Munroe. I'm the headmistress of the Institute."

Yukio made sure to give her a proper bow. "It's an honor, Munroe-sama."

Professor Munroe actually looked embarrassed. To Yukio's relief, the tension seemed to seep out of the room. "Oh, there's no need to bow. Really." She smiled, the same look of exhaustion overcoming her features. "I'm sorry, I didn't sleep well last night. You're looking for Logan, correct?"

"Is that his name? I was told he was called James."

Ororo looked thoughtful. "That might have been his name, once. But he lost his memories years ago and has gone by Logan or Wolverine since then. If he ever remembered that name, then he didn't tell us about it. May I ask why you're looking for him?"

Inwardly, Yukio shrugged; it wasn't as though she was planning on murdering him or something. "My employer wishes to thank him for saving his life during Nagasaki."

"Nagasaki, really?" Ororo raised an eyebrow. "Why am I not surprised? A warning for you, Yukio: disaster tends to follow Logan around like a loyal dog. Or maybe he's the one who sniffs it out. I can't tell the difference anymore. If you want to know where to find him, I'd recommend looking around in Canada rather than America. He prefers it there."

Canada? The thought hadn't even occurred to Yukio. There was no mention that he'd ever lived there in her notes. That was going to be a long search— one that she wasn't all that eager to get started on. She regarded Professor Munroe with more curiosity now. She recognized her from one of the photographs, which had showed the professor standing side-by-side with the Wolverine.

"This is a place for mutants?" she asked.

"Yes, it is," said Ororo. "Why? Are you…?"

"It's nothing I cannot hide," Yukio muttered. "Or control."

That wasn't a complete lie. It was easy to hide her mutation, just as long as she didn't say anything about it to anyone. However, that didn't mean that she could just stop the visions. Even now, looking at the professor, she was struggling to ignore the images that flashed before her eyes. This was a good woman— she didn't _want _to know how she died. There were times when the future changed, and she hoped that this was one of them.

"You're welcome to stay with us a few days, in any case," offered Ororo. "No charge. We harbor any mutant that needs it."

"Oh— no, I could not," replied Yukio. What she didn't say was, 'You seem like you have far too much to deal with already.' The Ororo Munroe sitting before her and the one in the photograph almost seemed like different people. "I must continue my search; my employer will not tolerate me resting for too long."

"If you must," said Ororo. "Not even for one night?"

Yukio couldn't say yes. This was a safe place for mutants. Not even at her home in Japan had she had that kind of guarantee, no matter how much Yashida-sama tried to reassure her. If she decided to stay, one night would turn into two, which would turn into a week, which would lead to her being very tempted to simply stay there and ignore her orders entirely. Her sister was the one with the reputation for not making friends, but Yukio was just as bad. To think that there were people like her at the Institute…

It was somewhere she could _belong, _but she had to stay loyal. She was no Ronin.

There was a knowing look in Ororo Munroe's eye, as though she knew exactly what Yukio was thinking. Unable to help herself, Yukio looked away, suddenly no longer nervous but outright afraid of the woman behind the desk. Ororo was more than just the headmistress of the school; her eyes spoke volumes of what she had witnessed.

"Thank you, but no," Yukio said, more firmly this time. "I have a duty, Munroe-sama. I think you understand that."

Just before she left the office, she thought she heard Ororo murmur, "Do I ever."

* * *

**A/N: **This is just a little side-project of mine; my way of taking a quick break from Ponds Don't Run. It's in three parts; the other two have already been written, and are just waiting to be posted.

One thing that bothered me about the Wolverine was the two year gap between the end of the movie and the post-credits scene. What was he up to in that time? This is me, filling in that gap. Sort of. Next chapter we'll have him returning to the mansion.

I've only seen the movies and some of the cartoons; I've never read the comics, so my knowledge is mostly movie-based.

I'll admit to being RoLo biased, so there is some of that in here. Apart from that, that's the only non-canon part of this fic. Enjoy!


	2. Part Two

**Halfway Across the Gap**

**Part Two**

Xavier's Institute was the closest thing that Logan had to a home. In spite of this fact, he was slightly anxious about the prospect of coming back.

Okay, that was an understatement; he felt more like he was about to shit his pants.

Ever since the plane had landed at the JFK airport, he'd been replaying the argument that he and Ororo had before he left for the second time to go on his pity trip. The worst part was that she hadn't yelled at him— not once. She hadn't increased her volume even a little, but kept her voice at an even, measured (but frigid) tone as she told him exactly what she thought of him for 'running away', as she called it. He remembered saying several choice things, after which she quietly told him to leave. He'd felt vindicated at the time, but now all he felt was sick to his stomach.

He tried to distract himself with the car that Yukio rented. She never failed to travel in style, though he was offended by her distaste in motorcycles. He didn't ask how she knew the way to the mansion; it made sense that she had visited there in her search for him. Which of course meant that she talked to Ororo, which led his thoughts back to the argument.

Damn it.

Yukio didn't seem the least concerned with his feelings on the matter; in fact, looking at her more closely, he'd say she was excited. She was beaming at _something, _and it sure as hell wasn't the driver talking on his cell phone in front of them.

Logan wished that he were driving. At least then he'd have something to take his mind off of his impending return to Xavier's. Yukio, however, always insisted on driving after he'd managed to get them in a car chase in Spain ("They were from that slave ring we were tracking! What'd you expect, Runt?" "I _told _you not to try to drive over the top of the police car.") That particular spat had ended with Yukio smiling sweetly while offering to buy him a motorcycle of his choice when they went to America— after she threatened to cut his balls off with Danza. Nearly three months of travelling with him had quickly removed any awe she held for him.

Logan was a bit proud of that fact.

If Yukio weren't with him, he wasn't sure he would have summoned up the courage to even suggest going back to the Institute. Yukio had jumped at the chance, and no amount of reluctance from Logan would change her mind.

"How long were you there for last time?" Logan asked, feeling an uncharacteristic need to break the silence.

Yukio's eyes flashed over to his before returning to the road. "Not long. Just enough to ask Munroe-sama where you might be. Fifteen minutes, I think."

"Why didn't you stay any longer?"

For the first time since they'd landed in New York, Yukio looked uncomfortable. "I'm not sure I would have been able to leave."

He and Yukio had many things in common, but not this apparently. She didn't want to leave, and he couldn't do it soon enough.

_Don't you mean 'abandon', not leave?_

_Shut up, _he growled at himself. Since when had his conscience sounded like Jean? Yeah, he used to dream of her often enough, but this was new.

By the time they pulled into the drive, he felt like he was gearing up for battle. Yukio hopped out of the rental after strapping Danza to her back, looking at him with glittering eyes. It was obvious that she was thrilled. Logan couldn't help himself; he started to play the funeral march in his head. As though she could hear it too, Yukio gave him an exasperated look.

"No one here will kill you," she informed him.

"I thought you said the future could change."

"That is true," replied Yukio. She sounded way too cheerful.

He gave her one of his trademark scowls. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

She chose to ignore this remark, walking up to the door and forcing him to follow. Not even his nerves could make him hide in the car like a little boy; he had a reputation to maintain, after all. Even if there were several mutants here who were capable of seeing through it easily. Yukio rang the doorbell, humming to herself. Logan winced, knowing that many of the students were probably woken up; it was the middle of the night.

In spite of his anticipation, he couldn't help but grin at the cranky Southern twang that greeted them.

"Do y'all even know what time it is? I swear, this had better be important, or I'll—"

The door was yanked open, revealing a young woman with a distinctive white stripe through her hair. She seemed to lose her voice at the sight of them, her jaw hitting the ground.

"Hey, Rogue," he said.

He was a bit hurt by the sheer disbelief in her eyes, but he figured it was well-deserved. After all, he himself hadn't expected to come back, either. There was a moment of hesitation from her, during which he held his breath. Said breath was then knocked out of him when she flung herself at him a moment later.

"Welcome back, you idiot," she said, her voice muffled by his jacket. She drew back and punched his arm, almost making him wince. "Finally come to your senses, have you? And it's Marie now."

Yukio was watching the exchange with no small amount of amusement. Marie seemed to notice her suddenly, blinking a bit.

"Hi," she said. "I'm Marie."

"Yukio." She shook Marie's hand, which Logan noticed was uncovered. He knew that she'd taken the cure, and that it had worked. Whatever else it might have done, it certainly did wonders for Marie. He'd never seen her more at ease in her own skin before, as though she was finally completely comfortable with herself. She looked older, too. He felt a sudden pang that he'd missed this change.

"C'mon in," Marie said, ushering them through the doors. "Most everybody's sleeping; I got night watch. Turns out I'm lucky, 'cause I get to be the first to see you. If you want to talk to Ororo, you can do it in the morning. I think we have two spare rooms next to each other for both of you— unless it's just _a _spare room?" she asked, looking between them speculatively.

Logan and Yukio looked at one another before snorting in unison. "We did pretend to be a couple in Egypt," she reminded him.

"Yeah," Logan muttered, aware of Marie's curious gaze, "and that will never not be weird."

"… all right then. Spare rooms it is," said Marie.

As they made their way to the staff quarters, Logan fell into step beside Marie. Yukio was walking ahead of them, drinking in everything around her.

"So, you still working with the X-Men?" he asked.

"As the pilot," admitted Marie. "Ororo's been really understanding about it. But I mostly teach now. I cover math classes for the younger kids. Kitty and Piotr have split up the science classes, and Bobby's tackling English. We were really short-staffed, so we volunteered, else Ororo would've been teaching every class and running the school at the same time."

Logan wondered when Storm had become 'Ororo' to Marie. He had flinched a bit when Marie mentioned being short-staffed, because he knew that that was his fault.

"Bobby's taken over the Danger Room sessions, too," she continued.

He couldn't stand it anymore. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Marie held up a hand to stop him.

"Don't," she said sharply. "I don't know why you left, Logan. You seemed like you were doing pretty well— Jean's death notwithstanding. You were a big help after Alcatraz. I don't expect you to tell me anything about what happened, but what's past is past. And for what it's worth, I understand."

It occurred to him then that Marie had been in mourning at one point, too. Maybe she was doing better without her powers now, but the fact remained that they had been a part of her— as integral as her arms or legs. It couldn't have been easy for her to let them go.

His suspicions were confirmed when she said, "I took the cure, and yeah, there are some days when I regret it. But then there are other days when I'm reminded why I did it, and I know I can't dwell on it. I have to move forward."

She stopped beside a door and gestured to one across the hall from it. "These two are free. It's up to you two who gets which one. I've gotta get back to watch. I _am _glad you're back, Logan. I'll see you in the morning."

She retreated back down the hall, eventually vanishing around a corner. Yukio looked at him, shrugged, and went into the room across the hall.

The interior of his room looked the same as many of the rooms in the mansion: elegant, classical— a reminder of just how rich Xavier's family must've been. Before, living here, he hadn't particularly cared what it looked like as long as he had somewhere to crash. Now, though, he felt like he deserved to sleep in the garage.

He didn't expect to catch many z's. It still felt like daylight for him. A short knock on the door signaled that Yukio felt the same; she entered without waiting for an answer from him, promptly plopping herself onto his bed.

"Get off, Runt," he said half-heartedly. "Go sleep in your own bed."

She ignored him again. "Why did you leave?" she asked, staring up at the ceiling. "It's nice here. I couldn't imagine wanting to."

_Because everywhere I looked I saw Jean. Because I could barely look at those graves without hating Scott. Because it felt like Chuck was staring at me wherever I went, even though he couldn't have been. Because Marie kept avoiding me after taking the cure. Because the mansion felt so damn empty after Alcatraz. _

_ Because I made a mistake. _

Aloud he said, "I'm a wanderer. Staying in one place isn't really my thing."

Yukio nodded, seemingly accepting his answer. Probably because it was partly true; he could've stayed with Mariko, but chose to travel instead. She, too, had gotten used to moving around a lot while she looked for him, as well as when they were in Europe for three months. She still showed no intention of leaving his side; she took her job as his bodyguard very seriously.

"How well do you and Munroe-sama know one another?" she asked abruptly.

He shot her a look. "Well enough," he answered tersely. Yukio let it go. She was able to read his moods rather well, and knew when it was a good time to back off.

"Marie lives a long, happy life, you know," announced Yukio. "She dies smiling, aged considerably, holding hands with a kind looking man. There are others with her— her children, perhaps."

Yukio's predictions of death used to unnerve him slightly, but he was more accustomed to them now. Hearing her speak so frankly about someone he knew was a bit different, but he smiled slightly when he realized that Marie's life would ultimately be a great one. At least he'd done right by someone here.

"Wanna spar, Runt?" he asked.

Yukio looked around the room, nose wrinkling. "We may destroy some of the furniture."

"I know a good place," he told her. If the Danger Room still allowed him access, that is.

It turned out that it did. He felt another wave of shame; he'd been sure that Ororo would've deleted him from the records by now.

_Please. You know that Ororo's not that petty. _

_Shut _up_, Jean. _

Yukio grinned at their surroundings, hefting Danza. "This will do nicely."

* * *

**A/N: **Not much to say about this one. I see Logan and Yukio as having a kind of brother-sister relationship.


	3. Part Three

**Halfway Across the Gap**

**Part Three**

Ororo woke up at about five in the morning, as was her habit. She did a few quick meditation exercises before showering and heading to the kitchen for breakfast. Just as she had made some toast, however, Bobby hurried through the door and all but dragged her away; she just managed to snatch her food and bring it with her.

"You've gotta see this!" he exclaimed. "I mean, they've been at it for hours, but they don't seem to get tired. It's crazy."

He was leading her down to the Danger Room, she realized. Sighing inwardly, she prepared herself for some sort of elaborate prank or other kinds of troublemaking. She followed Bobby into the observation room, where Kitty, Piotr, and a tired Marie were already gathered. That was right, she recalled: Marie had been on night watch. She was about to tell her to go get some sleep when the scene in the Danger Room itself caught her eye.

Flitting all over the place like a bird was the visitor the Institute had had almost a year ago: Yukio, the young woman who'd asked after Logan. Ororo could make out the quick flash of a silver blade that she was using. She had a look of intense concentration on her face, even as she managed to make every move look effortless. She could've been floating instead of running. Ororo shook her head; they sure knew how to train fighters in Japan.

It was the man Yukio was fighting that made her breath catch, though.

Logan looked healthier than she'd seen in years, and seemed— well, not happy; she wasn't sure that he was capable of that— but somewhat content, at least. He was matching every strike of Yukio's with his claws, which were no longer flashing the silver she was familiar with. No, she realized— they appeared to be made of bone, now. They must've been what his original claws were like before the adamantium procedure. That provoked multiple questions: what had happened to him? Where had he gone through that? Was it voluntary?

Then her initial shock wore off, and her cool assessment of him was lost in the storm of emotions that followed. If the others felt a slight breeze from her, none of them mentioned it; they all seemed to be too engrossed in the fight below. Ororo, by contrast, was no longer paying attention to it, but instead fighting to keep in control. All of her rage, fear and sadness fought her grasp like snakes, but she still managed to force them down. She didn't need to create a mini-hurricane in the observation room.

Yukio landed on Logan's shoulders and kicked away, knocking him off of his feet. She grinned at him as she landed neatly on the other side of the room. "Is that all you have, Old Man?"

He was up in a flash, grinning back. "In your dreams, Runt."

Bobby chose this moment to interrupt. "All right, you two make a cute couple and all, but some of us need to use the Danger Room some time."

Both Logan and Yukio started. Logan glanced over at the observation room, his grin dimming when he got a good look at who was there. Ororo met his gaze unflinchingly, and was satisfied when he looked away first, choosing instead to focus on Bobby.

"Watch it, Iceman," he warned. "We're not a couple."

"He's not my type," Yukio said. "I don't understand the sideburns."

Logan mock-glared at her while Kitty, Marie and Bobby sniggered. Piotr chuckled quietly. Ororo couldn't seem to bring herself to crack a smile, though she liked Yukio.

"Welcome back, man," said Bobby.

Was it her imagination, or did Logan look contrite for a moment? "It's good to be back," he said gruffly.

Deciding that she wasn't needed there, Ororo departed for her office, munching on her toast. She had maybe an hour to catch up on paperwork before she needed to start teaching history. Her head was reeling from the fact that he was _here_, and she desperately needed a distraction.

She managed to bury herself in various tasks: taxes, bills, letters of complaint, requests from the government, pleas from parents who believed that their child or children were manifesting as mutants… it was endless. Still, it was work that Ororo had grown used to, and the monotonous quality of it all kept her mind safe from unwanted thoughts.

Fifteen minutes before her first class of the day, there was a knock on the door. She looked up, pulled unceremoniously out of her reverie. "Come in."

She stiffened as she recognized the head that poked its way inside. "Bad timing?"

"Not at all, Logan," she said, forcing a cordial tone. She smiled stiffly and added, "As headmistress, I think I speak for all of us when I say welcome back."

He pushed a hand through his hair— he'd cut it, she noticed. It looked a bit more… well, normal. "Jesus, I— look, Ororo, can I just be frank? We need to talk."

"I don't see what there is to talk about." She paused. "Unless you want to talk about the sudden destabilization of several large mutant slave rings in Europe. Then I'm all ears."

He gaped at her. "Of all the fucking— _that's _what you're mad about?"

No, it wasn't, she wanted to say. She was mad at him for leaving so suddenly, when she was sure that he had finally found a reason to stay. She was mad at him giving her hope that she was equipped to run both the Institution and the X-Men, and then ripping it all away with just a few words. She was _furious _at him for coming back and upending her life once again.

"Language, Logan," she chastised. She thought she saw him twitch. "What you've been doing is reckless, and seriously endangers your life and the life of Yukio—"

"She's my bodyguard," he said, and Ororo blinked in surprise. "She can take care of herself. And I don't think you really care about that."

"If you're the one who wants to be blunt, why don't you just come out and say it?" she asked. She was running out of patience.

"Fine!" he snarled. "We had sex. It ended badly. It was my fault, I get it. I shouldn't have said anything, because not a single goddamn word was true, Ororo. I fucked up big time, and it took me almost two years to get over the fact that Jean was dead and I was never going to see her again. I shouldn't have started a relationship of any kind. I'm not going to lie— it wasn't supposed to mean anything, but it did, and I lashed out because…"

He trailed off a bit, slumping where he stood. Ororo filled his last words. "It felt like betraying Jean."

At his surprised look, she laughed bitterly. "What, you think I didn't feel the same? I knew that Jean returned your feelings on some level. She was practically my sister, my best friend. We were confidants for years. So I felt that guilt too, because she was dead and how could I do that to her?"

He stared at her, as though the thought had never occurred to him. She realized it probably hadn't. "No offense, Ororo, but you look like you've aged ten years."

"I got lucky, then. I feel like I've aged twenty. I've already got white hair, the wrinkles can't be that far behind."

He scowled. "This isn't funny. What are you trying to do? Kill yourself with work?"

"Of course not," she snapped. "The school needs me. So do the other X-Men. I haven't managed to delude myself into thinking that I'm not needed. Speaking of which, I have class in ten minutes, and a lot of paperwork to take care of. Do you mind?"

"Yeah, I do," he said. "If I walk away from this now, you're going to avoid me for weeks." He placed both palms on her desk, leaning forward. Ororo sat up straighter, refusing to be intimidated by him. "First off, I'm here because I only want to ask one thing from you."

"And what's that?"

To her immense surprise, he dropped to his knees so that he was at eye level with her. In a tone that she had never heard him use before, with anyone, he answered, "Your forgiveness."

A million and one thoughts were whirling around in Ororo's head. She didn't think he'd ever looked so open and honest— at least, not with her. The closest he'd gotten to it was when he had come to her room, a few months after Alcatraz, and fallen into her arms like a man who just couldn't keep going. They'd both taken from the other with a raw, visceral need; neither of them hesitated. The two of them had been growing closer for quite some time, so she hadn't been all that surprised by his visit. What did surprise her was that he kept coming back, until the tension and guilt they both felt snapped and caused his departure.

She sighed. "Logan, I forgave you a long time ago, because you were right."

That pronouncement threw him off. "What?"

"It's the truth," she said. "What you told me the day you left— that I couldn't measure up to the Professor, that I couldn't fill in the absence of Scott or Jean, that I was an idiot to think that I would ever have it all under control— you were right. I can't become the Professor, or offer the same guidance he did. I can't replace Scott and Jean. This school isn't the same as it was, nor will it ever be. All that meant was that I had to make it better."

"You did," he insisted. "From what I've seen so far, the Professor would be proud. But you didn't deserve any of it. Which leads me to my second point: anything you need me to do, just point me in the right direction. Yukio plans on us staying for a while, as far as I know, so I might as well earn my keep."

She nodded. That sounded reasonable enough. Bobby was doing well with the Danger Room sessions, but Logan had always had a bit more creativity with such scenarios.

"I almost died in Japan," he admitted suddenly. "Crazy bitch named Viper suppressed my healing factor. It was a real wake-up call."

Ororo raised an eyebrow. "That maybe life was worth living after all?"

"Something like that," he admitted. "I kept seeing Jean. She… wanted me to go to her."

His eyes were pleading for answers. Softly she said, "You want to know if it really was Jean."

He nodded, swallowing.

"I don't believe it was," she said. "Jean would have wanted you to live your life and move on. More than likely it was just you. Some part of your subconscious did want to die and you fought back against it."

"Not sure if that's better or worse," Logan muttered, grimacing.

"You got past it," Ororo told him firmly. "That's what matters."

She was surprised by how much of a relief it was to have Logan back— to have someone there who _understood_. After Alcatraz, it had seemed as though they were the only two left. They had clung to each other like they were drowning, but refused to actually speak about their grief. It had ultimately led to each of them being even worse off. Even now, with the rift partway healed, Ororo still felt something gaping between them. However much he might regret his words from months ago, the fact remained that he had said them. He had known just where to aim to truly hurt her.

She wasn't about to make herself that vulnerable again.

"Logan," she began, "I'm glad we had this discussion, but I think it's best if we simply… keep our distances, for the moment."

Surprising her again, he didn't argue her point. Instead he nodded. "Whatever you say. Later, Professor Munroe."

His exit was as abrupt as his entrance.

* * *

Logan returned to his room that night to find Yukio curled up on his bed like a cat. He almost considered taking over her room the same way she'd taken over his, but instead she stretched and sat up when he walked in. Her eyes were questioning him.

"How long are we staying?" she asked.

"Indefinitely."

"I am glad," Yukio said. "As I have already said, I quite like it here."

"You won't if you keep stealing my bed," he growled.

"I'm going, I'm going," she sighed, waving him off as she headed for the door. She paused in the act of reaching for the knob. "You know, I think you are no longer a Ronin."

He regarded her. "You think?"

"Yes." She nodded her head in satisfaction. "Here, I think you are a bit more like a proper samurai."

Strange, he later reflected, how much those words warmed him.

* * *

**A/N: **There'll be a sequel eventually. Probably. You can check my profile if you want details on what I'm doing with this. Until then... back to Ponds Don't Run.

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked it.


End file.
